happy to point out, gold has no provenance. She had no personal preference either way, nor any ethics worth the mentioning. She was utterly amoral and quite cheerful about it. I knew she'd occasionally done the Authorities' dirty work in the past, when they felt the need for a little distance or deniability. (Strictly pro bono, in return for which they agreed to turn a blind eye to some of her more notorious activities. Business as usual, in the Nightside.)

"I do hope this isn't about a honey trap, darling, because I don't do those any more," she said flatly to Walker. "They're just too easy, my dear; there's no challenge in it. Been there, done that, starred in the video. These days I prefer to specialise in cunning thefts, daring exploits, and just a touch of the good old-fashioned ultraviolence now and again, to keep the blood flowing."

"And a little discreet blackmail," said Walker. "To keep your coffers full."

Bad Penny batted her long eyelashes at him. "A girl has to live. And I never was very good at investments. All I have to do is mention that I'm thinking of finally writing my memoirs, and you'd be surprised how fast the cheques come flooding in. Now, what is it you want me to do, Walker? Something frightfully nasty, no doubt."

"You were listening to my little chat with John Taylor."

"Well yes, but I can't honestly say it made much sense to me."

"I want you to take care of Taylor."

Bad Penny looked at him sharply. "Now you're going to have to be just a little more specific than that, darling."

"I want you to do whatever it takes to prevent him from completing his mission. I want him off his present case, and I don't care how you do it."

"So ... dear John is no longer under your protection?"

"No," said Walker. "Can you take him?"

"Of course, darling! He's just a man."

"Distract him. Divert him. Do whatever you think necessary. But, if all else fails, you are authorised to eliminate him."

"I get to kill John Taylor?" said Bad Penny. "Oh, result, darling! This will absolutely make my reputation!"

"If all else fails," Walker said sternly, but Bad Penny wasn't listening.

"How shall I kill thee, let me count the ways ... That Shotgun Suzie thinks she's so hot. I'll show her"

I decided it was time to leave. Hell hath no fury like a woman you really shouldn't have slept with.

Five

All Answers Become Clear, in Time.

I'd only just sneaked out of that august establishment and snobs' central, the Londinium Club, when my cell phone rang. (It plays the theme from the Twilight Zone TV show. What else?) I hauled the phone out of my coat pocket and looked at it suspiciously. It very rarely rang, partly because only a very few people have my number, but mostly because they all knew better than to use it for anything less than a real run for the hills emergency. The line is not secure. Not only is there never any shortage of people potentially listening in, sometimes they actually join in the conversation. There's also the problem of pop-in advertising, intrusions from other dimensions, and the occasional possession of the phone by pervert demons with a thing about technology. I have to admit I'm not even sure how cell phones work in the Nightside, well out of reach of the everyday world's satellites and relay stations. (Though at least that means my enemies can't use Global Positioning to find me.) I've always assumed the cell phone system is supported by heavy-duty sorcery, but I have absolutely no idea who might be providing it, or why. Or when they're going to get around to charging for it. All things that would worry me, if I were the worrying sort.

I always screen my calls (after an unfortunate incident with a dead ex-girl-friend), and I relaxed slightly as I discovered the caller was Alex Morrisey. The owner and bartender of the oldest bar in the world, Strangefellows, Alex was one of the few people in the Nightside entitled to call me at any time. We were friends, sort of, which got him points for courage if nothing else. And since he'd never called me before in his life, I decided I'd better take the call. At first there was only silence at the other end, then a faint whispering of sound that might have been a wind blowing, far away. I said Alex's name twice, and when he finally spoke his voice